Harry Gets Fazed
by Rae Carson
Summary: Part III. Harry's 6th year, revisited. Darker things than Harry ever imagined are at play...and the darkness turns inward. Will he ever discover the secret of what lies beneath it all before it's too late? Incl. Draco Malfoy point of view. *Warning: Rated M self-harm in later chapters*
1. Apprehension

Dear Readers,

After much contemplation and debate, I have decided to go ahead with this presentation of the third installment of my "Harry Gets Even" series. I have agonized over whether or not I wanted to write this story, as it is even more deeply personal to me than the other two stories before this one. If you don't enjoy it, that's okay with me. But it you do, that's okay, too. Thanks for your time and consideration.

Sincerely,

Rae Carson

PS The_ Harry Gets Even series _is as follows:

_Harry Gets Even  
Harry Gets Charged  
Harry Gets Fazed_

* * *

Ever since his trial that summer, Harry had never been the same. Hermione, Ron, and Ginny often caught him staring off into space. Harry clammed up whenever they asked him about his ordeal in Azkaban and wouldn't say hardly anything. They were really starting to become concerned for his welfare. But Harry had always managed to shake things off before, so this would probably be no different.

"Hey, Harry, you up for going to Diagon Alley with us?" Hermione asked kindly.

"What?" he asked. Harry had been staring off into space again, lost in whatever thoughts held him bound.

"Harry," said Ginny, with concern, putting her hand on his knee, "are you okay?"

Without thinking, Harry pulled away from her and said, very quickly "I'm fine." He didn't want anyone to worry about him and flinched away from any concern they showed. "Yes, I'd like to go to Diagon Alley with you," he replied hastily, staring at the floor.

"Okay, mate," Ron said, "I'll go tell Mum." Then Ron walked away.

"Harry," said Hermione, "you've been awfully quiet the last two weeks," she said quietly.

"You would be too, if you had spent your sixteenth birthday in Azkaban," Harry snapped.

Hermione ignored his ire. "I'm sure I would be, but Ginny and I feel that maybe…if you talked about it…you could feel a bit better."

"Yes. What's bothering you, Harry?" Ginny said.

Harry paused a bit before finally answering. "Everything," he said.

"Everything?" Hermione prodded. "A mistrial was declared for you, because of the new evidence brought to light. And…you're not in Azkaban anymore," she reminded gently.

"I suppose not," Harry mumbled, still staring at the floor, still not wishing to elaborate on what was bothering him. But he knew Hermione wouldn't let him alone until he said something. "I guess…one thing in particular is still bothering me," was the only bit of information he volunteered.

"What is it?" Ginny said, sitting next to Harry on the couch.

Harry put a hand to his mouth in contemplation, before answering, "What if I really am a murderer?"

Hermione and Ginny stared at each other in confusion for a bit before Hermione said, "You're not murderer, Harry. You've proven that over this past year. Voldemort tried to convince you that you were a weapon of some sort, but you're really not. Why ever would you think such a thing about yourself?"

Harry sighed. He hadn't really expected them to understand his concern this time. They rarely, if ever, truly grasped the meaning of his inner turmoil.

"But…Hermione…" Harry said, "I can't remember if I really did put a curse on them before we crashed," and he clenched his fists in frustration. "What if I did?" he looked down at the floor again. "What if I'm—" he gulped, "—evil?"

"Harry," Hermione replied, also sitting down next to him on the couch, "we've been through this before. And I overheard Sirius talking to you many months ago," she said softly. "You're not a bad person. You're a very good person to whom bad things have happened," and she put a hand on his arm.

Being reminded of his godfather who had passed on at the end of last school term caused a lump to form in Harry's throat. But he knew that Hermione meant well. He put his hand on hers and managed to choke out, "Thanks."

Nothing seemed to bring him any real comfort anymore…nothing except the prospect of a relationship with Ginny. She had moved close to him and taken up his other hand and held it as they were speaking. He managed to conjure a smile for her right before Ron walked back into the room with Mrs. Weasley. Harry and Ginny jumped apart at the intrusion.

"Well, it looks like we're going to Diagon Alley," Ron said happily. "Grab your things and we'll go now."

* * *

Harry went with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley to a very closed-off-looking Diagon Alley. Hagrid had been assigned as security detail for their group. Hardly any patrons lined the streets and Harry and his group stayed clumped together, per Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's instructions. A few other groups of people passed by them, looking just as worried as Mrs. Weasley now looked.

Harry, Hermione, and Ron bumped into Draco Malfoy and his mother at Madam Malkin's robe shop. Wands were drawn; Madam Malkin nearly fainted with worry. Unkind words were exchanged between Narcissa and Harry, until Narcissa finally left the shop.

Everybody made their way to Fred and George's joke shop in Diagon Alley, which was touting their newest and latest product, U-No-Poo, the Constipation Sensation that's Gripping the Nation! They walked inside and busied themselves with the myriad of products upon the shelves. Mrs. Weasley nearly died of shock due the audacity of her sons' mocking of Lord Voldemort.

Before long, Harry caught a glimpse of Draco Malfoy running down the street, without his mother. Harry hadn't found much interest in anything lately, but his mistrust of Draco Malfoy still pounded in his veins.

As Harry had taken his invisibility cloak with him, he took it out of his pocket and whirled it around himself. He told Hermione and Ron to get underneath it with him. Although it was much harder to hide under the thing now that they were so much older and taller, they managed all the same to run down the street behind Malfoy. They followed him to Knockturn Alley.

The three of them watched as he ducked into Borgin and Burke's shop, the only of Knockturn Alley's shops that Harry had ever visited. Ron had some Extendable Ears he shared with Hermione and Harry as they slipped them under the door and listened to Draco's conversation with Mr. Borgin. Malfoy was inquiring about fixing something in the shop.

At first, Borgin, a greasy-looking stooped man, treated Malfoy without much regard as Draco demanded he make the repairs on something and place a hold on another item in his shop. Then…Draco moved in front of a large black cabinet and Harry's view was blocked. But Draco had shown Borgin something, as the man backed away and was now practically bowing and scraping, giving Draco the same respect he would have given Lucius. As Draco spoke with Burke, Burke agreed to fix the cabinet as soon as possible, instead of putting Draco off. In fact, Burke had agreed to everything Draco was saying.

After dashing back to the joke shop, Harry spent the rest of the day contemplating what on earth it was that Draco Malfoy had been up to in Knockturn Alley.


	2. Draco's Dark Mark

Draco went to his room that afternoon after the trip to Diagon Alley and flung himself down on this bed, many thoughts spinning around in his head. _Damn that Potter,_ he thought, _always trying to interfere in everything._ He was sick of Harry Potter trying to ruin everything in his life. Draco had enough problems to worry about without Potter getting in the way.

Draco's mother had been positively insufferable after he had come home from school that summer, and she had only gotten worse since he had received the Dark Mark. Draco thought it odd that even though he was the Dark Lord's newest servant, he was still subservient to his own mother.

He thought back to the conversation he had had with Narcissa…before he had received the Dark Mark…

"Mother, I can't just sit back and do nothing," he said angrily.

"Yes, you can!" Narcissa exclaimed. "This is not your battle, Draco, it is Lucius's, and his alone! It is not up to you to pay for retribution of his sins!"

"But the Dark Lord won't let up, mother," he replied, "and you know it. If I don't go, I'll be dead."

"If you _do_ go, you'll be dead!" Narcissa shrieked, on the verge of tears. "You're my only son, Draco, I can't have you going off and doing this thing…"

"Would you rather I just sit around and wait for him to come find me? I have to face him."

"No, you can't, you just can't," Narcissa cried.

"I don't have a choice, mother," Draco whispered, looking away from her. He couldn't stand her emotional display any longer. He had never seen her as such a combination of livid and worried. She was beginning to lose it, and it was not only disconcerting, it was unbecoming as well. "Control yourself," he said harshly.

"Don't you talk to me that way!" Narcissa turned his face up and slapped his cheek. "I am _still_ your mother." She took a deep breath and said, "You're not going and that's final." Then she turned and swept out of the room, leaving Draco in her wake.

That very night, Draco had sneaked out of Malfoy Manor and gone to the Dark Lord's quarters. He was determined to stay calm and be like his father had always taught him to be—cool and collected.

"Ah, Draco Malfoy," the Dark Lord bade him to enter, "I see that you have received my summons," he hissed in his high-pitched voice. For the moment, the Dark Lord saw fit to stay in the shadows of the room. This suited Draco just fine; he had never personally seen the Dark Lord face-to-face, and the prospect actually terrified him.

Draco gulped, not quite knowing how to respond, so he simply bowed deeply toward his father's master.

"At least you have been taught proper manners by your father," the Dark Lord said. Draco thought he detected a hint of amusement amongst the anger, but it was difficult to tell. Draco knew that his father had made an egregious error in getting caught at the Department of Mysteries a few months previously. It meant that the Dark Lord had to be extraordinarily angry.

"I trust you know why I summoned you?" the Dark Lord asked.

Draco gulped. He had scarcely been prepared to answer such a question. "I…" Draco began, haltingly, "I assume it's to punish me? Milord?" he said quietly. He really had no idea why the Dark Lord wanted him there.

The Dark Lord laughed a wheezing laugh, which startled Draco. At last, the man stepped out from the shadows and showed himself to Draco. Draco couldn't help but stare at the alabaster, snake-like face.

"No, Draco," said the Dark Lord, "I wish to _reward_ you," he said conspiratorially.

Draco shook his head slightly. "Re-reward me, milord?" he said softly. "For what?"

"I think you show a lot of promise," the Dark Lord said silkily, now circling around Draco, as if appraising him. "I would like to give _you_ an assignment."

"M-me?" Draco gulped again. "Milord?"

"Yes," he said, "you. I can think of no better person than you for the task I have in mind."

Draco's heart raced. The Dark Lord wanted Draco to do something for him?

"Are you certain? There are others better-suited for…the things you wish…"

"You _dare_ to question me?" the Dark Lord hissed low in his throat.

"No, of-of course not, Milord," Draco said hastily, as he bowed again.

"Don't you think you can do a better job than your father?" hissed the snake-like man, still circling Draco.

At that, Draco gritted his teeth. His face burned with the humiliation of Lucius's mistake. He puffed out his chest and held his head high as he answered, "I will do anything you ask of me, Milord."

Then the Dark Lord smiled a terrible smile, walked up to Draco, and took Draco's left arm in his slender fingers. Draco began breathing hard and he felt his adrenaline kicking in. He wanted more than anything in the world to run, but he didn't dare.

The Dark Lord took his wand, and held it to Draco's forearm. Draco gasped as blood-red flaming tongues of ink spidered out from the tip of the wand and seared themselves into his flesh. His arm burned fiercely. He did not see the Dark Lord's look of utter satisfaction upon his snake-like face. Draco tried his level best not to pull his arm away, but he couldn't help it—it hurt too badly.

At last, Draco had wrested his arm from the Dark Lord's grasp, but by that time, it was too late. The small tongues of flame had ceased their relentless burning, and had cooled to a black in colour. Draco stared at the newly-created Dark Mark on his arm. Then he looked up at the Dark Lord's cruel face.

"Bow before your master," he hissed angrily.

Draco knelt on the floor as a supplicant and bowed his head.

"Your assignment is this: you must go back to Hogwarts this next school year and use any means possible to kill the headmaster, Albus Dumbledore."

Draco's eyes grew huge as he stared at the carpet in fear. Kill Albus Dumbledore? How could he possibly hope to accomplish such an impossible task? Then the answer came to him. The Dark Lord never chose anybody he didn't feel was worthy, did he?

"I detect fear behind your eyes," said the Dark Lord. "Do you doubt me, Draco?"

Draco looked up quickly and replied, "No, Milord. I can do it. I _will _succeed," he vowed.

Lucius had said time and again that Dumbledore was the worst thing that had ever happened to Hogwarts. And now, here was his chance—to set things right. To do his family proud. He could not fail.

"See to it that you do," the Dark Lord said, "for if you fail, I will kill your parents in retribution."

After that, Draco hung his head. He didn't know what emotion he felt more right now—hatred, fear, or pride at having been chosen to kill Dumbledore. One thing was certain—he had to save his family.

"Yes, Milord," Draco whispered.


End file.
